


The Dawn Will Come

by The Bookwyrm (Amicitia)



Series: Inquisitor Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Despair, Drama, Exalted Plains, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amicitia/pseuds/The%20Bookwyrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor pushes forward to the Exalted Plains, but all does not go well in the fight with the demons.<br/>Warning: Some, if very slight, graphic imagery on the fight scenes and injuries.</p><p>Fairly Cole heavy. He's such a sweetie.</p><p>----------------------------------------</p><p>A fireball erupted from the hands of the Arcane Horror, heading right towards them. “Jump!” Dorian cried as the group splintered. Islington reacted and jumped away from his friends, rolling onto the wooden planks as he felt the warmth of the flames lick at his ankles. They had barely missed getting burned. He turned his head, trying to find his friends and came face to face, with the gaping mouth of a Despair demon. Islington’s eyes widened at the sight of the numerous teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope has fled

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the events at the Winter Palace.

It was just another usual day in the War Room as the advisors updated each other and the Inquisitor on the movements of their organisation. News was exchanged, information shared so that the best solution could be obtained, or a choice made by Inquisitor Trevelyan. Leliana sorted through her notes, while Josephine took the minutes. The ambassador needed all the information especially on who to deal with. While she handled the nobles and pulled the strings, her information came from the Left Hand of the Divine, and from missives sent by the Commander’s troops. 

As the Inquisition grew, so did the number of pieces that they needed. What had started out as several pieces on the map at Haven had grown after their movement to Skyhold. Larger pieces had to be made, and at one point, stones with painted markings were used as a placeholder. 

While they had sought to close the Breach and find those responsible, the Inquisition had seen that the regions in which they had a strong enough presence was stable enough. Trust had been slowly built, beginning with the refugees from the Hinterlands, and word had spread of how in such turbulent times, the Inquisition was a force that could be relied on to do something. Under Inquisitor Trevelyan’s guidance, it had grown into a protective force which sought to deliver what peace it could to those who needed it. Inquisition soldiers were no longer treated with suspicion and hostility, although there was a certain level of wariness. After all, they only went where there was trouble.

“There’s been an unusual amount of silence coming from the Exalted Plains Inquisitor. Our spies looked into the breakdown of contact between the capital and Imperial Army forces in the Dales. Following the events in Halamshiral, Val Royeaux should have received confirmation of withdrawal from battalions in the Exalted Plains. No such confirmation was received. The last communiqué from Gaspard's marshal reported a rash of desertions. After that, silence,” Leliana spoke as the advisors and the Inquisitor stared at the map. 

Cullen folded his arms as he looked at the map. “We can march soldiers into the Exalted Plains and position scouts in strategic areas. If lines of communication are down, we must be prepared for anything. It could be the Templars, the Freemen, or Corypheus. Without any information, we’re blind.”

Islington listened to his advisors and nodded his head. “Then we must move forward. If there’s any news of Corypheus’ location, or any hint, we must look into it. At best, we get more information on Corypheus’ movements. At worst, we find out what has happened to the Orlesian forces.”

The mage moved one of the pieces towards the map. “I’ll gather some of the companions and head down there myself. No doubt there will be rifts to close. Whatever we find, we’ll make the best of it.”

“I’ll send a raven to Lead Scout Harding.”

“We’ll depart in three days.”

 

\-----------------------------------------------

Inquisitor Trevelyan rode astride his courser. It was a fine Dalish All-bred, chosen because of its black and white pattern, marred only by the name he had given it, Horse. Dressed in his travel gear, he rode beside his companions. While Bull had insisted on coming along, after Islington went on about how some finesse might be needed and they could be dealing with diplomats, a few of them bowled out. In the end, the three that agreed to follow Islington were Dorian, Cole and Cassandra.

Cole sat on another horse. The light spirit’s steed had been designated the pack animal of sorts, carrying their supplies as they crossed the terrain to head towards the Exalted Plains. Aside from the physical usefulness, Trevelyan found that he appreciate the spirit’s insights. Cole could pick up on feelings and emotions of their surroundings and it gave the party an edge, warning them of possible dangers ahead… or revealing what had happened. Ever since he became more spirit-like, his presence had been a lot more subtle, and the Inquisitor appreciated his silent friend’s presence when dealing with Orlesians… especially those adept at the Game. Cole saw right through them. 

Dorian and Cassandra followed along, Cassandra on her Fereldan Forder. The destrider carried her gear and armour well and effortlessly across the rocky terrain. Dorian meanwhile fancied a gentler Imperial Warmblood. He had selected it for its gentle gait, which eased the sores they got from their long travels.  The man preferred comfort after all.

The party reached the forward camp, where Scout Harding was awaiting with her usual briefing. 

Islington dismounted, partially out of respect for his scout, partially because of her height. It would be difficult to speak to her atop a horse. “How’s the situation Harding?”

“The region is volatile. This was a front in a civil war. Now there’s rebels called the Freemen of the Dales. Recently emerged, and adding to the Chaos,” the dwarf said with a sigh. Everywhere she went, there was always trouble, and at times even the plucky lass’ spirit could be worn down.

The party worked together with Scout Harding to work out the most probable routes to take. Their mounts were tended to by the other soldiers. They would continue on foot. Despite the large amount of riding they did, the Inner Circle preferred combat on foot. Horses were fine but the lacked the finesse needed in some situations, neither was the appeal of risking one falling and crushing them mid-battle.

Once their supplies were ready, they brought along Cole’s horse to carry their belongings. The horse had been trained to keep the party within sight, but remained far away so as to remain out of danger. It was an intelligent fellow, brightest of the stables according to Master Dennet. 

It wasn’t long before they encountered trouble in the form of Freemen. During the fight, orders were shouted by the men to keep the Inquisition off the ramparts. They soon found out why.  

Just outside Fort Revasan, they spotted some soldiers valiantly brandishing their blades to defend themselves against a wave of demons. It was a slow fight, although one that was soon over once the Inquisition joined in. It wasn’t long before the demons were slain, driven back to the Fade where they belonged in the waking world. 

“From your hand, you must be the Inquisitor. I am Corporal Rosselin of the Imperial Army. We were trying to retake the ramparts from the dead. They rise here, somewhere within these trenches. It started when those Freemen showed up. Strange lights… like blue fire. It must be magic, but these Freemen are just deserters from the armies. How could they have managed this and why?”

“The peace talks in Halamshiral mean an end to hostilities, don’t they?”

“We’re no longer fighting each other but the demons… the dead… it was easier when we fought just men. You can win against men.”

Islington nodded his head. “Very well. There’s an Inquisition camp nearby, gather your men and you can find some supplies and rest there for a while. We will send a signal once we’ve cleared the area of demons.”

There was plenty of work to be done and somebody had to do it, preferably those with immense experience in handling demons. Unfortunately, that meant them. They selected their weapons from Cole’s horse, choosing those enchanted with demon slaying runes to make quick work to their foes. 

It was difficult navigating the ramparts. Undead attacked them at every step as they fought through wave after wave of enemies. 

“Cole, what can you tell us?” Islington asked after they were done with the third wave.

“There’s a demon… it’s… feeding. Screaming, shrieking, sending shivers... It was drawn here by the dead… and it’s still hungry,” the young man said as he looked out from under his hat. “There.”

The Inquisition strode towards the direction the spirit had pointed where an Arcane Horror stood, engrossed over a pit of dead bodies. The smell that emanated from it caused the humans to wrinkle their noses. One would think after dealing with so many dead that they would get used to the smell. Wrapping cloth around their faces, they plunged right into battle.

An angry cry rose from Cassandra’s throat as she charged towards their target, screaming to get its attention. “Fight me you coward!” she cried as she lunged her blade, feinting an attack. 

Cole sought to sneak to the back of the creature, his blades flashing wildly as he spun and danced through the air. One moment he was there, the next, he was gone. Dorian’s electricity flew through the air as he tapped onto the Fade. With this many dead bodies, there was much a necromancer could do, but with a demon nearby, it was better not to risk anything. Wave after wave of ice flew from the Inquisitor’s hand as he sought to limit his opponent’s movements. 

A shriek came from the Arcane Horror’s mouth, causing some of them to stagger as the pitch pierced their consciousness, overwhelming their senses. To their horror, more undead from the pit… along with several other demons. The shriek had been a cry for help to its fellow comrades. 

“Stay together!” Islington yelled as they regrouped, backs facing each other as demons and the undead started to encircle them. Cassandra shouted to get the demons’ attention once more. Corpses shambled towards her, but the more intelligent demons were not so easily distracted. With their backs together, the party could defend themselves well enough. Unfortunately, it meant that they were an easy target as well.

A fireball erupted from the hands of the Arcane Horror, heading right towards them. “Jump!” Dorian cried as the group splintered. Islington reacted and jumped away from his friends, rolling onto the wooden planks as he felt the warmth of the flames lick at his ankles. They had barely missed getting burned. He turned his head, trying to find his friends and came face to face, with the gaping mouth of a Despair demon. Islington’s eyes widened at the sight of the numerous teeth.

Then it vanished, drawn away by the sounds of the fight. Islington heaved a sigh of relief as he looked about, trying to grasp the situation on the battlefield as he stood up. His ears were still ringing from the shriek of the Arcane Horror. Cassandra was in the thick of the fight, defending herself against wave after wave, but it was clear she was going to be overpowered soon enough. A blade had lodged itself in her leg and the seeker continued fighting… until an axe from one of the corpses came down onto her skull, splintering the helm with a sickening crunch.

“Cassandra!” Islington cried, focusing on another ice spell, despair surging through his body as he tried to rush to his friend’s side. He stopped midway as he heard another voice calling out to him.

“Amatus!” came the desperate cry from the side. 

The white-haired man spun on his heels towards the cry and he stared… as his world fell apart. From the centre of his chest, Dorian sported a blade. Blood started to spread over his clothes.

“No… No…. NO!”


	2. The night is long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra and Dorian deal with the aftermath of the fireball, and just waiting

Cassandra leapt clear of the fire just in time and spun around as she gave another war cry, taunting the enemies. “Is that all you’ve got?!” Her shield shuddered under each blow, it's metallic ring shrieking through the air with each clash of metal. Blow after blow was absorbed as she upped her guard. Her pauldron held well under the assault. She had to thank Harritt for his good work later on if they made it out. Her blade flew through the bodies of the undead, cutting through them like water. Assisting her was Cole, flickering in and out at the corner of her eye, always there to strike but never present when the blow was returned. He had avoided the fireball with his usual vanishing tricks, stepping sideways through reality as the magic hit the spot where they had been. His lightning and fire runes worked in tune as one by one he meticulously dispatched the corpses. It was unnerving how frighteningly efficient the spirit was in dismantling the bodies. He struck at their weak points, disappearing once the job was done. Where there was space, Cole wove himself into the area.

The warrior glanced around quickly to take into account her allies. Dorian was busy hurling balls of electricity, sending it through the ground and stunning several enemies at once before taking them down. It was second nature for him to severe the connection of the undead and the demon, causing them to collapse as he worked through one by one. That was when she noticed that the Tevinter was standing protectively over the fallen body of the Inquisitor. Barriers were cast when Dorian found enough time to, and he was ingesting lyrium potions to replenish his use of mana. Worry for her friend gripped her heart tightly but until the wave was over, she had to focus on the onslaught. 

“You can't hurt me!” Cole cried as he plunged his dagger into the heart of the Arcane Horror. With one dying scream, it returned to the fade. With the Arcane Horror gone, slaying the rest of the demons and corpses went easier. Cassandra set fire to the pit of dead bodies once the enemies were cleared. Hopefully they would not rise again. They needed the time to check on the Inquisitor. He was usually up and about again soon enough but his stillness was worrying.

As the warrior strode over, Dorian leaned over his amatus, frowning and worry etched over his face. Cole stood nearby watching quietly. Cassandra stared at Dorian and knelt down by the man’s side. She watched the tell tale signs of life in the Inquisitor’s body. Slow breaths rising and falling. There were no obvious injuries but it was clear something was very wrong.

“Festis bei umo canavarum, I swear if you don't get up from this I'll kill you myself!” Dorian desperately cast another revival spell on Islington, cradling his body tightly to his chest, hoping that some of his warmth, his life could pass to him. The man’s body was cold, abnormally cold. Tears started to form on the Altus’ eyes.

“It's not working because he's not dead. Despair took him and I must follow,” Cole said as he vanished from sight.

Dorian held the man’s body tenderly. Some bits of frost was forming on his hair. “Despair took him… There was a despair demon around. I didn't kill it, did you or Cole?” Dorian asked, his voice quavering a little as he knelt down to slip his lover’s body over his arms. Cassandra assisted quietly by taking their weapons. 

“I do not believe so. One moment it was on the battlefield the next gone. If what Cole said is true… Then it went inside the Inquisitor… We must keep an eye on him in case he becomes an abomination. A demon with the Inquisitor’s power is something I do not want to face,” the Seeker spoke frowning.

“Cassandra… I… This is not the time. Please. We have to do what we can for him. Get him warm and back to camp,” Dorian said as he cradled the man. It was thankfully a short walk back. Several soldiers rushed over to assist Dorian as they neared the camp.

“Get a bed near the fire, he needs to be kept warm,” Dorian instructed. Once he laid the man down, the Vint held his lover’s gloved hands, rubbing it gently to give some warmth. He gently brushed away the frost that was forming again. Harding looked over at the Inquisitor and Dorian before turning to Cassandra, silently asking for an explanation.

“There were demons at the fort… One of them… It's trying to possess the Inquisitor. Send word to Skyhold. Leliana must know what has happened. If the mages can do anything about it from where they are, ask them to,” Cassandra said before turning to look at the soldiers who were eavesdropping. 

“It pains me but the Inquisitor is now an abomination and has to be kept watch over. A despair demon is trying to possess him now. If… He is a Mage who has survived his Harrowing. I have faith that he will make it through, but I and those who were Templar trained will stand guard.”

Dorian ignored most of the chatter around him. Partially because he was distraught by Islington’s condition, partially because he knew what Cassandra said was necessary if hurtful. A demon that would successfully control the Anchor was terrifying indeed. He was glad the strong headed warrior was taking charge, he could barely focus now. He counted the hours that passed from who stood watch. Mostly it was Cassandra, if it came to be, she didn't want the burden of the Inquisitor’s death on any of their soldier's hands. Harding waited and watched the skies for signs of ravens. She knew it would be awhile before any messages came but she still kept watch. 

Cassandra walked over with a bowl of soup. “Dorian you must eat. Take some rest. Islington would rather you take care of yourself while you waited as well.”

The Tevinter nodded his head but ate obediently although he could hardly appreciate the flavour. Chunks of meat and vegetable floated in the soup. 

“What I don't understand, is why a despair demon would want to possess him. I mean demons yes, but despair? It is not an emotion I would associate with the Inquisitor with. He's always so… Resolute when he makes up his mind,” Cassandra spoke as the two ate side by side. She had made sure that Dorian’s portion had a good chunk of ingredients to last him. It broke her heart to see him in this state. While she had been cold towards the Altus in the first place, suspicious even, she had slowly started to accept him as a friend. More so when she noticed the level of Islington’s morale around Dorian. Cassandra had done her best to get to know the young Altus and slowly but surely, a friendship had blossomed. Admittedly, Islington’s tendency to drag Dorian around all the time helped. 

“Being resolute has nothing to do with despair Cassandra. Islington’s…” Dorian trailed off as he looked at his lover lying on the ground, covered with a blanket as the flame roared nearby, searching for any sign of movement. Finding none, he continued. “He’s done a better job at hiding his emotions than I had thought… but if you consider all the kinds of demons that there are, the ones that would be drawn to him are Despair demons. Despair demons are a perversion of Spirits of Hope. There’s nights where I just hold him, and he cries. The stress of the Inquisition gets to him, the daily dancing with demons. Although from his words, dealing with demons is preferable to nobles. I know he’ll pull through this… but he keeps wondering when will it be over, and he can just lay his staff down and rest properly. When he’s with me, I try to make him forget, if just for a while, about the rest of the world. What keeps him going, is knowing that the Inquisition brings hope to others, brings hope to us. That people can live some semblance of a normal life once in awhile during such dark times. Sometimes he wonders if he’s strong enough… he is… he just needs reminders… and it’s always a fight for him between hope and despair.”

Cassandra listened quietly and nodded her head. “He always did hide his emotions. I sometimes wonder who he was before he got the mark. What did he do during his spare time and so on. Whenever I try to speak about it, he changes the subject and after a while, I got the hint.”

“How long did it take you?”

“About five times of asking.”

“He… he’s a scholar honestly, not entirely an adventurer. He very much prefers his books, some quiet time and honing his magic. He had been trying to develop some form of ice magic prior to the dissolving of the Circle, something about an organic form of ice which could respond to touch. When the Circle dissolved, he just… well he went home with his brother.”

“His brother? He’s never spoken of him.”

“His brother had been a templar at the Ostwick Circle. They were fairly close and had travelled together to the Conclave. Islington as part of the mage delegation, his brother as the templars accompanying them. They had hoped that they could do some good given both their professions. Needless to say, only Islington survived. I try not to bring him up. It may have been months but he still very much grieves for his sibling… What about you Cassandra? What were you like before the Inquisition?”

The two of them conversed, trading stories about their past until their bowls were dry. Cassandra went to get a bowl, while Dorian propped the Inquisitor up and they gently fed the liquid to his lips. 

Harding came over with a letter from Leliana as the sun started to set. “Solas is going to attempt to reach Islington in the Fade through his dreams, but Madame de Fer is on her way here together with The Iron Bull, Warden Blackwall and Varric. They figured they might settle some of the other areas in the Exalted Plains while the Inquisitor is recovering.” 

The dwarf looked at the sullen faces around the Inquisitor. “Don’t worry… he always comes back,” she said with a reassuring smile. “He’s been through enough and always comes back.”

A templar walked up towards Cassandra and Dorian. “My name’s Lysette sers, I would like to relieve you for now. You two need to get some rest and I’ll take over watching the Inquisitor for now. He saved my life at Haven and I’ll take care of him,” she said, her tone tender and yet sad. 

“Thank you,” Cassandra said for the both of them before Dorian could reject it. They prepared their sleeping sheets next to the Inquisitor, near enough that they could react if need be. It didn’t matter that they lacked a tent over their heads, their worry for their friend overran their desire for comfort, even Dorian’s.

As the Altus drifted off, he recalled Harding’s words, “He always comes back.” Hopefully there was truth in it this time… and perhaps if he was lucky, he could find and help Islington in the Fade.


	3. And the path is dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor deals with the Despair demon. A relatively Cole heavy segment. He needs more love.

Islington held Dorian’s body close to him. It was cold, he felt so cold himself. The corpses milled around him, drawing closer and closer by the minute. Time seemed to pass slowly as his whole world just felt like it had shattered and stopped.

“No… No…” He kept repeating it couldn't end like this. He released his hold on his lover’s body, taking his staff and drawing upon the Fade. It was easier somehow to bend it to his will. Blue blasts shot through the air as corpse after corpse froze and shattered as he sent blow after blow. Tears filled his eyes when it was done. It was just quiet, empty now and the sky had turned dark. Had so much time passed? Islington wasn't sure. There was work to be done, he reminded himself. You have to burn the bodies, and bury Cassandra and Dorian. Something clicked in the back of his mind. Wasn't there a demon? He couldn't see any. And Cole… Where was Cole?

“Cole?” He called out, voice trembling as he spoke. Only silence and the wind answered him as leaves scraped across the wooden floor board. Islington wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. His mind was reeling from the shock of it all and the Mage pushed himself to his feet, scanning about him. Where was Cole? Had his friend been defeated and returned to the Fade?Islington sat in silence as he knelt next to Dorian’s body.

Work yes work… He moved the corpses one by one to the pit, though each step was difficult. It was cold and he felt numb. All he wanted to do was to curl up on the ground and cry. As he dragged a corpse, he stumbled, shivering even more. It was getting dark quickly and it was so cold. A deep gasp came from him and he gave in to the feeling, curling up on the boards and breaking into sobs.

“You failed them. You loved them and you could have protected them but you weren't strong enough,” he heard his own voice say to him. Was it in his head, or did he hear it? He didn't care. Islington curled up into a fetal position, crying and sobbing.

Dorian’s sword-struck form got up and came over to him. “Amatus… I'm sorry,” he said reaching out to touch the Inquisitor’s hand with a gentle caress.

“You're dead… I've failed you…” Islington sobbed. Part of him was screaming that something was wrong. Maybe he was hallucinating in his grief. He had heard such tales from soldiers. The other part felt like he deserved it. “I didn't say goodbye… You were my world Dorian… I… What do I do?”

Dorian removed the blade from his chest as he knelt down to the sobbing figure. “Kiss me… One last time to make me feel alive?” He said as he reached down to cup Islington’s cheek tenderly. The Tevinter’s hands were icy cold, Islington shivered once more but obliged leaning in close as he closed his eyes. He felt the man’s lips brush against his… And his chest tightened. A rush of feelings went through him but rather than the usual euphoria he felt, he felt as if his spirit was being drained. Opening his eyes, he stared in horror as he saw the multitude of teeth that greeted him but he was too weak to draw away, too weak to protect himself. He had fallen so easily into the demon’s trappings. Bit by bit, he felt his life draining away, his hands fell slack against his sides.

“Hold on Islington!” a faded voice cried in the distance.

Then he was pushed away violently as he landed on the ground. Islington shivered but took the chance. Fire, he thought and sent a fireball towards the demon. Behind it, he saw something shimmer and flash. The scream the demon gave made his blood curl.

“You will not hurt my friend!” Cole yelled as he stabbed at the despair demon again. The spirit stood between the Inquisitor and the demon, and the demon hissed at Cole and vanished. Islington hugged himself more but he didn't feel so cold. It was still chilly but warner now.

“Cole what… What's going on?” He asked voice strained and trembling. The spirit helped him up to his feet and supported him.

“This isn't real… This is in your head. The demon was hungry and it saw you, dark, desirable it wanted your emotions… You fell but you're safe. Dorian and Cassandra took care of you. I followed you here into your mind. It's… Dark and colder than I had imagined,” Cole spoke as he shouldered his friend. The demon had drained more of the mage’s energy than he had expected.

“We need to get out. Do you know how?” Islington asked. He held his friend close. He was exhausted but knowing that Dorian and Cassandra were still alive gave him a renewed sense of hope.

“This is your mind. The demon wants your despair… It's somewhere. We have to kill it,” Cole said as he looked around.

“My mind… How do I get out?” Islington asked.

“This is your mind, I’m hoping you would know. I tried to help and found myself here. Despair is hurting you,” Cole said quietly.

Islington took a look around. It was hard to say. In the distance, things looked hazy. “You are helping Cole… I… I don't feel so alone… Sometimes I get thoughts, I don't tell anyone. People have enough to worry about without me dumping my thoughts on them. Sometimes when I look at the loses we have, the people I've killed, I feel awful… But it's necessary. I am the Inquisitor. The world depends on me and I'm… I just want this to end soon with everything back to normal.” There was a wary tone to his voice as he spoke. Partially from being drained, partially from the weight on his shoulders.

Cole nodded his head. “You help as well. That's why I'm here, that's why I stay with you. We need to get you out. Despair seeks out your pain. We must find it.”

Islington froze at the boy’s words then sighed. “Very well if that is what is needed… I think I would know where to look. We need to head to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

The two friends started off in a direction, Islington relying heavily on Cole. He still shivered once in awhile but it wasn't as bad as before. The presence of the spirit gave him comfort. As they travelled, the dreamscape shifted under their feet and they soon found themselves walking towards the mountain. All around them, trees were dying and it was silent and cold. The only sounds were from the wind blowing, along with the scraping noises that could be heard occasionally. Islington was no dreamer but he could direct and shape the area.

“I remembered it being lush and full of life… Why is it… So dreary?” The man spoke as he looked to Cole.

“When Despair took your energy, he took some of your mind too. This is a part of it and he's making it strong. This is how it will become. You're strong but it's strong too. There's so much pain here. I could not see it when I looked at you from the outside but in here, it screams and cries. It's loud. Can you not hear it?”

“I hear it Cole… I just ignore it,” Islington said as they continued walking.

“That’s hurting you.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be all right.”

After a while, he felt strong and warm enough to be on his own and Cole let him as they crossed the dreamscape in silence. The Temple of the Sacred Ashes felt farther than it looked and each step was heavy. The spirit moved faster than him, but waited patiently by his side, always a few steps ahead but never too far to reach out if he needed. As he pulled each step forward, he was reminded of the time he escaped Haven. Each step as he grew colder had become more difficult, and he kept going because forward was the only way. It felt similar. Islington hugged himself and shivered as a cold wind blew across him… and continued blowing.

He looked up startled. He was back trudging through the Frostback Mountains, with Haven behind him… a harsh reminder that thoughts had power here and just being slightly distracted had caused it. The demon had probably picked up on that thought and seized it.

“Cole?” he called out to the rushing winds but there was no answer.

Islington shivered and rubbed his hands together. “Come on, pull yourself together,” he told himself as he looked about. He could see Haven and the breach was in the sky… Temple of Sacred Ashes. He took a deep breath and started towards it, fighting the winds as he forged forward. He recalled the day that he had arrived at the Inquisition camp, cold and close to death. How his advisors and Cassandra had fought, and how Mother Giselle had given hope to the others who were now under him. He wasn’t a faithful but he recognised hope.

Despite the cold, he found himself singing quietly under his breath as he walked, “ _Shadows fall and hope has fled, steel your heart, the dawn will come. The night is long and the path is dark, look to the sky for one day soon. The dawn will come_.”

It made his footsteps lighter as he strode, and he found the winds cooling down. There were voices that he heard. Cullen and Leliana singing and joining in. He didn’t feel so alone now as he sang and walked. The steps of the temple drew nearer

Finally his feet landed on the stone steps. A wave of warmth washed over him. Cole stood at the entrance, arms folded smiling at the Inquisitor. “You made it! Despair heard your thoughts and grabbed hold of it, it pushed me away. I tried to come back but there was too much wind and sound… then you sang, and I sang, and they sang with you. I knew you would make it here. I thought you had forgotten, but you remembered!” The boy was giddy with excitement.

Islington reached out to hold his friend, to make sure it was him. The area grew warmer as hope rekindled in his heart. “It’s good to see you Cole… and yes for a moment, it felt like I was lost. Come on, I know… I know what… I think I know what I have to find.”

“Your brother isn’t here anymore, he went back to the Maker… but Despair will try and use him against you.”

“I know… I just hope I am prepared for it.”


	4. Shadows fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole helps the Inquisitor to deal with the demon.

The temple was empty and dark. Their footsteps resounded off the walls as the two friends walked. Water ran down the side of the walls. They passed through bodies, burned and frozen in time with screams of terror and agony etched on their expressions. Islington remembered that walk when he reached it the first time with Solas, Cassandra and Varric. It had been a bleak time for all of them, to see the level of destruction first hand.

The world grew cold again as he felt the memories and emotions.

“You must fight it Islington. When you feel despair it grows stronger. You must be careful,” Cole warned. This was his friend’s mind and there was only so much he could influence but he knew words had power and he used it to help.

“When shadows fall…” Cole started. Islington picked up the rest of the song. The assassin was many things but a singer he was not. As they walked, Islington continued singing Dawn Will Come. It kept him going, occasionally Cole joined in as well where he picked up on the words.

The area around them changed as he sang. Previously unlit braziers bloomed forth with crackling flames. Brightly coloured tapestries began to appear, covering the bare walls with their designs. Then bookcases filled and bursting with knowledge. The hallway became cosy, homelike almost. Watching the effect on his mindscape, the Inquisitor smiled, he was winning this fight.

Cole started looking at the designs on the tapestries, brushing his fingers against their threads.

“They're beautiful. Do you remember them all? What stories do they tell?”

“These were the ones I liked the most back in the Ostwick Circle. They decorated the common areas with them. Many of them show an image from history, or the chantry. I only remembered those which I tried to draw.”

The area grew warmer as he thought of the fond memories he had in the Circle. Then he recalled that these memories no longer existed as the Circles had dissolved. That very thought itself caused a change in scenery. The walls around them started to crumble with a loud roar. Islington moved closer to Cole mostly to try and shield his friend if anything happened.

The walls crumbled to reveal ahead of them was a fireplace that burned with a brilliant yet eerie blue flame. It wasn't even like veilfire. Next to the fireplace, a comfortable armchair was present, with its back facing towards them, hiding any occupant from them.

“He's there,” Cole said quietly.

A figure stood up and moved to stand in front of the fire. One could almost mistake it for Cullen’s figure but as he turned around, the true horror showed.

Before them stood a Templar. Islington gasped. It was how he remembered his younger brother. Auburn hair combed neatly and parted at its left side. His armour polished till it reflected with the Templar insignia branding across his chest. He was handsome like his brother, though he spotted a grizzled chin. It made him look manly, and got the attention of the ladies much to his delight.

“Quentin,” Islington said. Despite what he had tried to prepare himself for, seeing his brother again brought back a flood of emotions. Regret, despair, a longing, disappointment. The tremendous rush of emotions caused Islington to stumble and he found himself alone once more. It was just him and his brother.

“Cole?” He cried out, trying to reach for his friend.

“I'm here, trying!” Came a faded reply from somewhere. He knew he was on his own for now.

Islington stood up and he used his staff to help him up. When did it get there? He didn't recall walking with it but it was always by his side. The firm grip he had on it reassured him as he looked at his brother.

“Demon…” He said softly.

“Demon? Don't be silly Islington. I'm not a demon,” his brother said laughing. It was as he remembered, that hearty laughter the buff man had.

“You left me to die at the conclave. I called for you but you ran. You left me! We could have survived together,” came the accusations. They voiced his own doubts as he tried to recall that night. He still couldn't, his memories were still lost.

Islington was about to retort but bit his own tongue. Was he really that cowardly to have left his brother to die? They had gone to the conclave together. Their father had even suggested it for they were two sides of the same coin and could have served as diplomats. Yet when the time had come, had he just run away to save his own skin?

The world grew colder and darker around him and he leaned on his staff for support.

“No… No these are just words… Words from a Despair demon. You're not my brother. My brother wouldn't say such a thing!” But his voice shook with uncertainty.

“You left me to die. I called… I called,” his brother continued as he loomed closer. “The flames burned so much and I called for you and you headed me but you turned and ran,” as he spoke, the skin started to melt off his face. Bits and pieces of his flesh caught fire.

“That's not true,” Islington protested, his voice cracking as he saw the damage appear on his beloved brother’s being. A small rational part of himself was screaming that he could not have done anything.

“You were supposed to protect me! You were my older brother. You left me to die! What would Father say? What would Mother think of you? Why do you think they've never visited you at Skyhold? Their disappointment of a son. First an oddball with your looks, then a mage, and now you failed to protect your younger brother. You failed to protect me! How could you? How could you protect the world when you failed to protect your own brother?”

Each word cut through the Inquisitor’s being like a knife. It was as if each accusation was delivering a physical blow to his being. He sank down to his knees. “Quentin I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I would never have ran… You know that…”

“Liar! You selfish liar!”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Cole popped out into the real world standing above the Inquisitor’s form. It was the middle of the night and second watch had just began. Cassandra was just relieving Lysette. The two warriors immediately reached for the pommel of their blades out of reflex. Their startled yell started to wake the rest of the camp.

“Cole you startled me… How… Is everything all right with Islington?” Cassandra asked frowning.

Cole did not respond but looked at the Inquisitor as he knelt down. “I'm here, trying!” His voice was strained as he concentrated desperately to no avail.

“I'm sorry… So sorry,” came the whispered words from Islington’s mouth. Dorian had awoken from the yell and sat up, going to his amatus’ side and held his hand tightly, hoping that the man’s words were some hint of a returning consciousness. His whole body was trembling. Dorian brushed the frost that started to form over his palm.

Cole looked at everyone, looking upset. “The demon, it's feeding on his despair. He needs hope. I cannot help him alone. He's locked me out. The demon has grown stronger with his brother. You must sing, you all must sing.”

“Sing Cole? What do you mean? What must we sing?” Dorian asked, worry evident in his voice and expression. His amatus needed him and he would try his best to help, but the boy as usual was not making sense at all… Or any that he could decipher. _Kaffas_ if only he had tried before to make sense of the spirit’s ramblings then it wouldn't be so hard now.

The enigmatic boy didn't respond but slowly started to sing, recalling the words and picking it up easier once the soldiers caught on.

“ _Shadows fall and hope has fled, steel your heart, the dawn will come…_ ” he started. Cassandra and Dorian joined in, followed by Lysette. Some of the groggy soldiers had no idea why they were singing but sing they did, their voices blending together into a sweet harmony.

Then Cole vanished… Not that many knew but Cassandra and Dorian both hoped that he had found a way to help Islington.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Islington laid on the ground, staff beside him useless. He was useless. He couldn't save his brother, he couldn't save himself. What was the point? How could he hold on and save the world against Corypheus? It might be better to just give up, lie down and await a fate that he deserved.

Footsteps neared and his brother stood before him… Or something that looked like his brother. It had multitudes of teeth as it wore the templar’s armour. The teeth rotated as it neared his face. Islington closed his eyes, calmly awaiting it to bite him… Or something. He grew colder by the minute, felt his life energy slowly drain away. Soon. It wouldn't be long.

“ _Bare your blade and raise it high…_ ”

There were voices… Voices he recognised. Cassandra’s… Harding’s… Dorian’s… His soldiers. They were here, with him.

“Listen to them,” Cole’s gentle voice sounded through the darkness. “They love you and want you. They know you won't leave them. He always comes back.”

Islington felt the warmth that grew in him. He recalled their faces on that fateful night when Corypheus had attacked Haven. All had seemed lost… Then Solas had shown them Skyhold. He recalled the look of hope and adoration on his men. How they had pledged to follow his lead. The faces of gratitude of those whose lives he had saved in Haven… Adan, Lysette, Seggrit, Threnn… so many of them. Where he had gone, he had done his best to save what lives he could.

He felt his strength being drained, but yet, replenished as he opened his eyes. The Despair demon stood before him, but it looked confused. It turned to look to the side and Cole stood there, reaching out with one hand to place it on the demon’s shoulder.

“This is hope… it’s familiar… You were a spirit of hope once. Don’t you remember? Show it hope Inquisitor,” Cole said softly.

Hurt as he was Islington agreed, showing it hope, giving it its purpose once again. Cole shone brightly, as he felt Islington’s compassion. The Inquisitor always showed mercy, giving chances unless there was none to be given. When he could, he always allowed people to atone for this mistakes by serving and helping others.

“ _Stand your ground, the dawn will come_ …”

Islington slowly stood up as strength filled him. He drew on hope, and he threw the emotions towards the demon. White light emanated from his hands, filling the area with warmth. He felt Cole’s hands intertwine with his, guiding the energy towards the Despair demon. The white light enveloped the creature and they backed away.

“ _The night is long and the path is dark_ …”

“It’s remembering, recalling. Men who tried to call it, it wanted to give hope, but there was none. These men didn’t want hope… they wanted purposeful pain. They tried to call it with its friends,” Cole said softly. “It’s all right, it won’t hurt anymore.”

“ _Look to the sky for one day soon…_ ”

Where the Despair demon had stood, a shimmering white light now took its place.

“Thank you,” it said, its voice melodious. Then it faded away.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

“The dawn will come…”

The soldiers finished the song. Some found that they were holding each other’s hands, but the emotion in their voice was clear. Dorian leaned close, uncertain now on what to do now that the song had ended. There was no movement. Then something manifested over the Inquisitor, a bright light that took the form of a shade but then it vanished into the night.

The soldiers’ hands flew to their weapons. Bows and swords were drawn. The mages reached for their staffs, ready for anything that might happen.

There was a sneeze from the Inquisitor as he awoke, startling everyone else.

“You can rest now. We did it. It’s gone,” came Cole’s calming voice. Even though the soldiers couldn’t see him, they lowered their weapons, relaxing, heeding his voice. The boy was delighted. “We helped the demon! It’s a spirit again.”

Dorian had caught the full face of the sneeze and he made a disgusted noise as he wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Amatus, did you really have to greet me by covering me with your snot?” he complained, but reached over to wrap the mage tightly in a hug.

“Dorian… I…mrmph!” Islington started to speak but he was interrupted as he found the Tevinter lavishing him with kisses all over. Warmth spread through his body as he felt familiar stirrings. He still felt cold but was quickly feeling a lot better.

Cassandra sighed with relief and smiled looking over at Cole. “I think we’ll get the whole story tomorrow… it’s good that he’s back… Dorian could you two please get into your tent?” she chided as the displays of affection became a lot more overt.

Dorian cleared his throat a little sheepishly as he readjusted his attire.

“Of course… I’ll take care of Islington for tonight.” He helped the man up and shouldered him into the tent. The soldiers made note to give the tent a wide enough berth. Inside the tent, Dorian helped the Inquisitor to one of the sleeping mats. The man laid exhausted on them, but he reached over to pull his lover close. Dorian happily obliged and continued to kiss the man repeatedly all over… until he heard soft sounds of snoring. With a defeated but happy sigh, the Tevinter wrapped his arms and pulled the blanket around them, snuggling close before he too drifted off to sleep.

“Maker’s breath,” Cassandra swore and shook her head once the two men had retired to a tent. She sat down next to the fire, heaving a sigh of relief as she looked at the sleeping mat where her friend had lain for hours. Cole crouched down beside her and smiled.

“Your singing helped, it gave him hope. He used it to turn the demon back into a spirit. He didn’t want to kill it. He helped it,” the spirit said softly. “You helped it.”

“I’m not certain what to think that I’ve actually helped a spirit rather than kill a demon… but I’m glad that our Inquisitor is back… and you as well Cole. I’ll ensure he gets enough rest for now. Vivienne, Bull, Varric and Blackwall are on their way. Perhaps we shall wait for them before deciding what to do next. I think our Inquisitor could do with some rest. We can probably handle the demons and just call him for the rifts,” Cassandra said softly with a smile.

“I think he would like that. He is tired. Let me know how I can help.”

“Of course Cole.”


End file.
